Therapy
by Wyntir Rose
Summary: After the events of Auto-berserk, Red Alert needs more therapy than he's willing to admit, and Smokescreen must employ some unorthodox methods to help the Security Director. Red Alert/Inferno


**Title:** Therapy

**Rating: **T

**Series: **G1

**Character(s)/Pairing(s): **Red Alert/Inferno, Smokescreen

**Summary:** After the events of Auto-berserk, Red Alert needs more therapy than he's willing to admit, and Smokescreen must employ some unorthodox methods to help the Security Director.

**Warnings:** slash

_**Disclaimer: **__Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

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><p>Red Alert paced the room like a caged animal. First one way, then the other. He never looked up, never looked at Smokescreen. He just paced, doors twitching in irritation.<p>

For his part, Smokescreen just sat back in his chair and let the Security Director calm down on his own when he was ready. After several minutes, his patience was rewarded when Red Alert stopped his pacing and turned to glare at him.

"He called me a traitor! After everything I've done for the Autobots, he called me a _TRAITOR_!"

"And he said the same thing about Optimus last week," Smokescreen replied. "I would hardly put any stock in Cliffjumper's accusations."

"He did not." Red Alert started to pace again. After another circuit of the room, he stopped and jabbed a finger in Smokescreen's direction. "And I do not appreciate your making jokes about this, Smokescreen. This is serious!"

"Sorry, Red. But I still stand by it. Just because Cliffjumper says something doesn't mean that he speaks for all the troops. You know that as well as I do." Smokescreen stood and moved to the cupboard, pulling out two cubes of energon. "Why don't you sit down and we can talk about all of this?"

Red Alert looked at the proffered cube with disdain. "You know full well I don't drink high grade."

Smokescreen nodded and continued to offer the energon. "I do. That's why this is standard issue low-grade. Same as our rations. Why don't you take it and sit?"

The security director hesitated for a moment longer before finally accepting the cube. Smokescreen motioned to the chair. Again, Red Alert paused.

"Red, we're not going to get anywhere if you don't trust me a little. I'm here to help, so why don't you sit? We'll talk. Just two colleagues talking. That's all."

Red Alert continued to stand stiffly, doors twitching and moving sharply against his back. They were nowhere near as expressive as the doors of a Datsun, but to Smokescreen they still spoke volumes. "I really have nothing that I want to discuss, Smokescreen. I'm perfectly fine and I resent having to be here."

Smokescreen sat and looked up at Red Alert. "You may not feel that you need this, but Optimus does, and more important, we have policies in place that say you have to be here. Section 3, subsection-"

"I know the policy, Smokescreen!" Red Alert snapped, his thin patience wearing. He glared at the psychologist before finally sitting down. "I helped write that policy." His tone was sullen and angry.

"Then you know that you can't get back to work until I've signed off on your psych eval. And the sooner we discuss what happened, the sooner I can do that, and the sooner you can get back to your office, and your monitors, and your work."

Red Alert's optics darkened and he looked away. His gun hand twitched almost imperceptibly. "I was malfunctioning. My problem was physical, not psychological."

Smokescreen nodded. When he spoke, his voice was calm and empathetic, offering sympathy, not pity. "I'm not denying that. Not at all. But you went through a lot and that's what has us concerned Red. You need to talk to someone about this."

"I. Am. _Fine_," Red Alert bit out. "I have no desire to discuss those events, and I do not feel that there is any need to be in these sessions. My work has not been affected, and I do not appreciate having to be here."

"Okay, I understand. You don't have to be here. I'll explain the situation to Optimus and we'll find another position for you in the ranks. It shouldn't take us long to find something suited to your skills and temperament."

Red Alert leaned forward in the chair as if preparing to launch himself at Smokescreen, his hands clenching into fists and his jaw bunching angrily. He glared at the Datsun, but made no further move forward, finally controlling his anger with a tight, fraying leash. "That is **blackmail**!"

"You call it blackmail, I call it incentive," Smokescreen replied with a shrug, unflinching in the face of the Lamborghini's anger. "You can't get back to work as Security Director until we work through this."

Red Alert's mouth opened as if to say something, then snapped shut. There was no point continuing this idiocy, especially not when his internal chronometer showed that the allotted time for the session was nearly over. He stood and marched to the door.

"We're done here. Should there be another meeting, we can discuss your blackmailing schemes then," he said curtly.

"Actually we have another five minutes," Smokescreen replied. "But since we aren't likely to accomplish anything in that time, I'll refrain from being a complete fragger, and let you go. One condition though."

"And what condition is that, Smokescreen?" Red Alert asked, his hand hovering over the door control.

"I want you to spend some time with Inferno. He tells me that you've been avoiding him, and that needs to stop," the Datsun replied as he came to stand next to Red Alert. "You need a support network right now and he's more than willing to provide you with that."

The Lamborghini looked at Smokescreen, lips pressed in a thin, tight line. "Is this how you treat privileged information? You just blurt out what other patients have told you?"

"He told me at lunch the other day, not while in a session. Doctor-Patient doesn't apply. Now stop finding reasons to push everyone away and go spend time with Inferno. He misses you and I'll bet good credits that you miss him too."

Smokescreen pressed the door controls and motioned to the exit. "There. Session's over, Red. Just try to remember what I said to you.

Red Alert spared one last glance at Smokescreen then left the room.

XXX

Red Alert sat in silence in his quarters, working studiously, optics intent on his monitors and data pads. He might be banned from the Security Office, but he would be damned if they were going to stop him from doing his work. He was in the middle of an in-depth report to Prowl when there was a knock at the door. From anyone else it would have been a quiet tap, but Red Alert doubted that Inferno could do anything quietly. Pursing his lips, he ignored the request for entrance and continued to focus on his work.

"Red? Ya in there?" Inferno called out. He waited for a few moments before knocking again. "C'mon Red, I've got some energon. I thought maybe ya wanted ta have dinner with me?"

Again the security director ignored his friend and continued to work. His tank churned in hunger, but he ignored that too. He'd had the cube in his session with Smokescreeen and that was all he needed. It was a ration and he was not about to give in to the weaknesses previous over-indulgences had caused.

He heard Inferno's miserable sigh through the door. "Okay, Red. Ah understand if yer still mad at me. Ah've left th' energon at yer door if ya want it."

Red Alert felt a twinge as his spark sank. He knew he shouldn't be leaving things like this with Inferno, but at the same time he didn't want to deal with the complications that the big truck's presence would create. Red Alert wanted everything to go back to how it had been before they had ever heard of the Negavator and the disastrous events with-

He cut off his train of thought with a shake of his head and he violently stabbed at the data pad with one finger, sending his report off to Prowl. There was far too much to be done and he had no time for dealing with frivolities and self pity. Brushing the entire day and his own feelings aside, he grabbed a second pad and began preparing a report to Optimus.

XXX

It was pure chance that led to Smokescreen stumbling across Inferno in the halls later that day. The big fire truck looked as dejected as a kicked puppy who was trying to play happy and the psychologist felt his spark sink.

"What's the matter, Big Red?" Smokescreen asked, pretending that he didn't already know.

Inferno just shrugged. "Nothin'. I'm fine. Jes headin' t' th' rec room fer some fuel."

Smokescreen nodded. "Uh hunh. You know, I could stand to be taller. Why don't you pull the other one too?"

Inferno's optics cycled in a blink as he looked down at the Datsun in genuine confusion. "Hunh?"

Smokescreen chuckled without malice. "Sorry, human saying. It means you can't fool me, Inferno. Something's got you upset and I'm pretty sure I know what - or should I say who - it is too."

Inferno sighed miserably. "That obvious, hunh?"

"Nah, I'm just good at reading mechs, that's all." Smokescreen reached up and clapped Inferno on the arm. "Wanna talk about it? I've got some nice brew in my office to help ease your mind." The arch of his chevron and that lopsided grin of his promised nothing that Prowl would approve of and something that would definitely help him drown his sorrows.

"Yeah, sure. Why not," Inferno replied with a shrug,then he paused and looked at the Datsun. "Hmmm ... Maybe I do need t' talk about it. Mech t' mech I mean, not like a session y'know?"

"Yup, just mech to mech, Inferno," Smokescreen replied with a smile. "You want to come to my office anyways or just go to the rec room?"

Inferno looked over at the hall leading to the rec room and then pursed his lips, looking up at one of Red Alert's cameras, a slow, calculating look in his optics.

"Right, my office it is," Smokescreen said, taking the decision from the other mech. "We can talk in private. Red Alert doesn't have a single optic in there." He glared up at the camera silently adding that Red Alert had better not have cameras in there or the two of them would be having words.

As soon as they arrived at his office, Smokescreen motioned to a large comfortable chair while he grabbed two cubes of high grade.

"Okay, so what's up?" he asked as he pressed one into the big mech's hand.

Inferno shrugged again. Smokescreen had the feeling that he was going to see a lot of that and tried not to sigh in frustration as he sat down across from his friend.

"Don't give me that. You look like you've been kicked in the head," he said, cutting right to the chase. "So spill and maybe we can figure out how to fix what's going on."

"I dunno if it can be fixed, Smokey." Inferno looked down at his cube as he started to play with it, rolling it around between his palms. "I really let him down an' I don't blame him fer being mad at me."

Sympathy filled Smokescreen's optics in the face of his friend's misery. "Oh, Inferno, it was a mistake. Red knows that. And I don't think he blames you at all."

"Then why won't he see me?" Inferno demanded. "I know he's in his room, but he won't come t' th' door. He won't answer mah calls. An this afternoon I tried t' bring him some energon an' he ignored me. An' I know he was in there!" He stood and started to pace, gesturing with his cube and sending high grade spilling across his hand and onto the floor. "... oh, sorry, Smokey ..."

Smokescreen waved dismissively. "Don't worry about it. It's easy enough to clean up and there's more where that came from."

Oh ..." Inferno looked down into the cube and then, after a pause, drained it in one large swig.

Smokescreen smiled and handed him a second cube, placing a companionable hand on the big mech's arm. "Inferno, has it occurred to you that maybe it's not you he's avoiding?"

The fire truck sighed and nodded slowly, looking down into his new cube. "Yeah, I know. I know it ain't all me, but I also know that it's easier t' go after me than it is t' go after that bastard Starscream." His hand tightened angrily around the cube, threatening to buckle the sides and send energon spilling everywhere.

Smokescreen nodded and touched Inferno's arm again, drawing the big mech's attention away from his anger. "I know what you're thinking, and going after Starscream isn't going to help anything."

"It'd sure as the Pit make me feel better," Inferno growled darkly.

"Oh, I think it would make all of us feel better. Primus knows he's going to have a huge target on his aft come the next battle," Smokescreen replied. His tone was equally dark, promising nothing but misery in the Seeker's future. "But I doubt that Red would appreciate you defending his honour like that."

Inferno slumped. "... nope. He'd be even more pissed with me than he already is."

Smokescreen bit back a frustrated noise. "Stop that!" His tone was sharper than he would have liked, but right now the big mech needed hard love, not coddling. "You need to stop pussyfooting around him and you need to stop blaming yourself! Fine, you made a mistake, and yes, Red Alert was hurt. but can you honestly say that if you'd stayed things would have gone any differently? That he wouldn't have malfunctioned?"

Inferno glared at the Datsun dangerously. "No! But I might've been able t' stop Starscream from takin' advantage o' him! I might've been able t' stop 'im from gettin' hurt like he did!" He loomed over Smokescreen. "An' don't you dare try t' tell me that it's not my job t' protect him!"

Smokescreen never flinched. He just looked up at the angry giant of a mech and stood his ground calmly. "It's about time you got mad, Inferno. It's about time you stopped wallowing in self-pity over this. Yes, you should protect him. But it's not that damned Seeker he needs protection from."

"So what're ya saying, Smokey?" Inferno asked, not wanting to jump to the obvious conclusion.

"Will you just go to him?" the Datsun replied, with a hint of frustration in his tone. There were times when he wanted to hit the big mech upside the head to knock some sense into him. "Go talk to Red Alert already and don't take no for an answer!"

Inferno seemed to wither at that, stepping back from Smokescreen and hunching over a little. It was a pose he seemed to often take when dealing with smaller mechs, as if he was trying to seem less imposing and intimidating. When he spoke, his voice was far less angry, almost pleading in its tone.

"Yeah but-"

"No buts, Inferno!" Smokescreen took the big mech by the arm and encouraged him toward the door. "Now come on. If he won't open up then I'll hack the lock for you."

"But you can't do that!" The fire truck sounded genuinely shocked at the suggestion.

"I can, too. I'm just not supposed to, but I am perfectly capable of doing just that," Smokescreen replied with a smirk that spoke of vorns on the wrong side of Autobot law. "There's a huge difference between can't and shouldn't big guy. Now come on. Let's get you and Red back together."

Inferno followed, still looking confused, but there was a small glimmer of hope in his spark. Maybe, just maybe, Smokescreen would be able to help him get through to Red, and maybe the Security Director would take him back.

"And stop thinking that you're going to beg him to take you back!" Smokescreen snapped. Then at the surprised look, he added a little less sharply. "It's written all over your face, mech. Now come on. I'll get you in and then you just ... well, just be there for him, okay?" The psychologist squeezed the big mech's arm with encouragement and sympathy.

Inferno nodded slowly, still obviously unsure. "Yeah, I can do that, Smokey."

XXX

Smokescreen crouched in front of the lock to Red Alert's quarters, easing his way into the mechanism and encouraging it to open for him while Inferno blocked him from view.

"Come on, T1, just let me though, will ya? Open up for Smokey," the Datsun murmured, poking at the control panel delicately.

After a few more sweet words and a bit more prodding the door opened and Smokescreen ushered Inferno in. "There you go, guys. Now you two talk out and I'll let you out later."

Red Alert looked up as the fire truck entered then glared angrily at the Datsun.

"What are you doing?" he demanded angrily, jumping out of his chair and closing in on Smokescreen.

"It's called therapy, Red," the psychologist said calmly. "You both need it and since I doubt that you won't agree to do this in session, I'm ordering you to talk things out here. You won't open up to me, Red, and that's fine, but I'll put good credits on you opening up to Inferno." With that he allowed the door to shut and quickly started to change the combination to a secure one that only he would be able to easily open.

"I will report you to Prowl! I will report you to Prime!" the Security Director yelled. "You cannot do this!"

"I can and I have. And Prime, Prowl, and Ratchet will back me on the decision too. After all, these are Doctor's orders." Smokescreen made a mental note to go see Ratchet and get him to lean on Prowl a little. And he had no doubt that with those two in his corner, Optimus would back him too. And worse come to worse, it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Red Alert brushed past Inferno, immediately starting to fight Smokescreen's hack. "You have no right!" he yelled angrily.

"Red?" Inferno's voice was small and sad, pulling the security director away from his anger. "Red, please? Can we just talk? An' then I'll ask Smokey t' let me out an' you can go back t' hatin' me."

Red Alert slumped at the tone. He slowly turned to look at the big fire truck and couldn't stop from flinching in the face of all that misery. It was one thing to ignore Inferno when there was a thick door between them, but it was a whole lot harder when they were in the same room.

"I don't hate you, Inferno," he said. Somehow he managed to sound miserable and annoyed at the same time. "I just can't deal with this right now. I have far too much to do and I have to make the most of my time since Smokescreen saw fit to have me barred from duty."

"Then when are we gonna deal with it?" Inferno asked. "Red, I've said I'm sorry every way I know how an' yer still closin' me out! It's makin' me miserable an' I know it's makin' you miserable too."

Red Alert looked away, staring blankly at his monitors. "I'm not closing you out. I happen to be very busy." Even to his own audios it sounded lame and pathetic, almost as if he was trying to convince himself.

"Yer not foolin' anyone, Red," Inferno said gently. He approached the Security Director and placed his hands on the smaller mech's shoulders, turning him gently.

At first Red Alert fought him, continuing to stubbornly face the monitors, but then after a moment allowed himself to be turned to face the big mech. With the guidance of surprisingly gentle fingers on his chin, he looked up at Inferno. For a moment there was only haughty irritation in his face, but then it seemed to crack and crumble, slowly revealing a very vulnerable and frightened mech.

"Come on, Red. I'm here. Ya know that right?" Inferno said gently.

"I - I don't want talk about it," Red Alert said, offlining his optics and trying to turn away. "Please, Inferno, I'm fine."

His vocalizer cracked a little on the last word, completely belying his weak claim.

"We don't need t' talk Red. Jes let me be here for ya? Least lemme do that?"

Inferno pulled Red Alert into a hug and brushed his hand over the Security Director's spoiler lightly. Red Alert fought, but the big truck wasn't about to take no for an answer. Not now.

"I don't want ya t' be alone, Red. An' I'm pretty sure you don't want t' be either."

Red Alert stiffened in Inferno's arms, as cold and as still as an I-Beam. "You said if we talked you'd leave. Now you're saying that you won't go. - I want to be alone, Inferno."

"Yeah, but we ain't talked, Red. An' I'm not gonna make you, but I sure ain't leavin' you like this. Not on yer own."

Inferno continued to hold Red Alert against him, gently stroking his back and spoiler, letting the rumble of his engine do the talking for him.

After a long moment of stiff rebellion, the Security Director finally sank into the touch.

"... I don't want to fight any more ...," he said in a soft whispered murmur.

"We ain't fightin' Red. We're just standin' here. That's all," Inferno replied, continuing to rub the security director's back with one hand, gently tracing mindless, soothing patterns.

Red Alert shivered under the touch. A part of him wanted to protest. This wasn't what he needed; he needed to get back to work and then all of this, all his problems would go away. But a stronger part of him was happy right here, and without conscious thought, his arms snaked around Inferno and he buried his face in his lover's chest.

XXX

Red Alert entered the brig and spoke a few low words to Huffer. With a nod, the minibot left, grumbling the whole time. From inside the cell, Smokescreen watched the whole exchange with casual interest.

"Came to chat, Red?" he asked, never getting up from his languid position on the berth. "Or is this a business visit?"

Red Alert glared at the psychologist for a long time, saying nothing.

"You know," Smokescreen began, breaking the silence, "the humans have a saying. 'If looks could kill'. I get the idea I should be glad you were never equipped with optic lasers."

"I'm glad to see that Optimus agreed with my assessment of the security breach," Red Alert said, in a voice that could have given a glacier chills. "I trust that you've learned your lesson and won't be pulling a stunt like that again."

Smokescreen sat up and stretched his doors casually. "Well, we both know that the policies are there for a reason. It's not like I can expect to flaunt them without repercussions. But that being said, I'd pull that same stunt again in an instant if I needed to."

Red Alert shot Smokescreen a disgusted look. "Why am I not surprised? You have no morals, no sense of decency, and you have no clue how-"

"Did you speak with Inferno?" Smokescreen asked, interrupting the security director's tirade.

"What?" Red Alert cycled his optics and looked at Smokescreen, disbelief and irritation written all over his face. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with your therapy. It has to do with your relationship between you and Inferno." Smokescreen's doors bobbed as if agreeing with his assessment as he leaned forward, looking at Red Alert pointedly. "And it's about your mental health. I know you don't want to believe me, but I'm not the enemy here, Red."

Red Alert looked at Smokescreen for a very long moment, calculating his response. It was something anyone else would have taken as nothing more than irritation and disbelief, but the psychologist had known the security director for far too long and was far too good at reading mechs.

"You're trying to divert the situation, Red," Smokescreen said, interrupting before the Lamborghini could formulate a reply. "You're going to point out that you don't have any mental health issues and that it was a physical malfunction. You're going to say that your relationship with Inferno is incidental to the point, and more to the point, a private matter. And you're going to, once again, point out that I've breached far too many regulations, both in terms of security and decorum."

Red Alert opened his mouth to protest, but again, Smokescreen cut him off. "And none of those protestations answers the question, Red. Did you speak with Inferno? Did my 'little stunt' result in any kind of impact? At all?"

"My personal life is none of your business." Red Alert's waspish reply was sharp, but had less conviction than before, and Smokescreen was quick to widen the cracks of uncertainty.

"Red, I'm not after your personal life. I'm just concerned. Friend to friend. That's it," he said gently, voice carefully modulated to provide nothing but calm support. "I know you hate to talk to anyone about your problems, and I respect that, I really do. I was just doing my job earlier, and I take full responsibility for overstepping my bounds. Thing is, Red, it was more than just me doing my job. I was concerned because I saw a friend who wasn't himself, a friend who was in pain - at least that was my view of it - and I needed to do something to help. And I know that if anyone could help you, it was Inferno." He shrugged helplessly, a perfect image of sheepish concern.

"Right. That's why you blackmailed me and then broke into my quarters," Red Alert, muttered angrily.

"And I apologized for that, and I'm being punished for my infractions. And you're using all of that to shield yourself from having to talk to me - or anyone - about what happened."

Red Alert turned and headed to the door. "I'm not using anything as a shield and, as I've said before, I don't need to speak with anyone about a systems' malfunction. Goodbye, Smokescreen."

Smokescreen shook his head, and sighed softly. "Okay, fine. You win, Red. When my time in here is up I'll talk to Optimus and we'll figure out if there are any loopholes in the regulation to allow you back to work."

The Lamborghini stopped and turned back, hands clenched and doors flared out in barely suppressed rage. "What do you mean loophole? There are no loopholes! And more to the point, it shouldn't even apply here! There is nothing wrong with me! Why do you insist on poking and angling for a different response? I don't know what game you're playing at, Smokescreen, but whatever sick fun you're getting out of this, I'm done! I will not play this game any more!"

With a growl better suited to Sunstreaker, the white Lamborghini spun on his heel intent on stalking out of the brig.

Smokescreen allowed Red Alert to rail against him, allowed the paranoia and anger to play out. But as he turned to leave, Smokescreen spoke up.

"Are you done?" he asked calmly, as if speaking to a wayward sparkling throwing a temper tantrum. "I ask because we can either get this over now or we can keep doing this little dance for as long as you like. After all, I've got nothing but time."

"Frag off, Smokescreen!" Red Alert snapped, turning to face the Datsun. "You have no right! You-"

"I have every right, Red Alert. Regardless of what you think of me as an Autobot and as an individual, I am the staff psychologist. So yes, I have every right." Smokescreen stalked forward to the edge of the cell. "You're hurt and you're trying to make that hurt and fear disappear by ignoring it, and I can tell you right now, that will not work. I'm speaking from personal experience here, Red; the more you run from your problems the quicker they're going to catch up to you. And the more you ignore them, the harder the beat down's going to be when they finally corner you."

"… I'm not running. There's nothing to run from," Red Alert replied after a quiet moment. "I had a malfunction and there's no need to run from that."

"Right. And that's why you can't recharge at night without seeing Starscream in every shadow and without second guessing yourself at every decision."

Red Alert's hand's clenched and he turned back to face Smokescreen. "I never told you that! I never-"

"You didn't need to, Red," Smokescreen replied gently, interrupting the security director. "I read mechs, remember? And it's written all over your face. You have to trust me. Talk to me and I promise you I can make those demons go away. Because if you keep on like this, you're going to have a full out panic attack the first time you face Starscream in battle."

"I won't." Red Alert's tone was sullen, but there was an underlying shiver there that belied his attempts at strength. "I can handle everything on my own. I don't need Inferno's pity and I certainly don't need your help."

"If you think that what Inferno's offering is pity, then you're worse off than I thought, Red. You're letting the Decepticons win. You're letting them drive a wedge into your life. You can't keep living like this, and they know it. One of these days you're going to have a complete breakdown, and you'll have pushed away all the people who can help put you back together again. It's black and white, Red. You are letting this whole thing get under your plating and you're betraying us to the Decepticons just as surely as if you had turned traitor."

That last little dig frayed the few remaining strands of Red Alert's patience. With a barely suppressed roar of anger, he sent an emergency pulse to the door of the cell, unlocking it instantly as he threw himself at Smokescreen. The Datsun never moved. Bracing himself for the impact and caught the furious Lamborghini in his arms. Red Alert lashed out, attacking mindlessly.

"Shh, Red. It's okay. Calm down, Red. It's okay. Shh," Smokescreen crooned softly as he took hold of Red Alert's wrists.

"It's not!" Red Alert shrieked as he tried to pull away and attack at the same time. "I'm not a traitor! I'm not _**BROKEN**_!"

Smokescreen leaned in to the Lamborghini, pulling the security director close as he did. "I know you're not, Red. Let it out. It's okay. Shhh. Just let it out."

Red Alert let out a pain wracked sob and his knees gave out on him, and Smokescreen lowered them both to the floor. As he did, he opened a tight, private comm to Prowl.

_"Prowl, psychiatric emergency in the brig. I need the room locked off and I need the recordings shut down. Now."_

There was a long pause on the comm line as Prowl debated the logic and the numbers until finally he replied. _"Acknowledged."_

Smokescreen turned off his comms and focused entirely on Red Alert. "It'll be okay, Red. I promise you it'll be okay. Just let it out."

"It's not," Red Alert whispered as he slumped against Smokescreen's chest. "It's never going to be all right. It was fine when I could pretend, but I'm losing my control ..."

"We can get that back, Red. Let me help you and we can get that back."

"How?" Red Alert asked, pulling away from Smokescreen. "How is talking about this going to help anything?"

"By talking in a safe, non-judgmental environment, you let the demons out. Talking it out helps us compartmentalize the emotions and the pain. It seems ridiculous, I know, and I can tell you now, things might get worse before they get better, but they _will_ get better. I'll stake my commission on it, and you know that I never get into a bet I can't win."

Red Alert made a rude noise. "Yeah, and that's why you picked up a month's worth of patrol from Sideswipe in that poker game last week."

Smokescreen grinned and sat back on his heels. "Okay, so I never get into a bet I can't win when the stakes are this important to me. That sound better?"

Red Alert looked a little unsure, but finally nodded slowly. "Okay, fine. I'll talk to you about this and work it out. And if it doesn't work you'll give up your commission." He offered a hand.

"Deal," Smokescreen replied, shaking the proffered hand. "And I know you well enough to know that you won't throw this just to win a bet. Thankfully, since we both know just how stubborn you can be."

He stood and motioned to the door. "How about we start now? My office is free, and we won't be disturbed at all."

Red Alert got to his feet and looked from Smokescreen to the door and back again before stepping out of the cell and locked the door.

"We have a session later this week. We can start then. After you're finished your punishment for breaking into my quarters."

Smokescreen shook his head and chuckled softly. "Okay, Red. I know when to fold. I'll see you in two days. And in the meantime, if something comes up, you know where to find me."

"I do," Red Alert agreed as he left the brig and headed back to his quarters. Halfway there, he stopped and changed course, heading instead to see Inferno.


End file.
